


Object

by Deepdarkwaters



Series: Bespoke [18]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Cock & Ball Torture, Cock Slapping, Dom/sub, Light BDSM, M/M, Riding Crops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 08:11:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8136845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deepdarkwaters/pseuds/Deepdarkwaters
Summary: "This is nice," Harry says softly, sliding a single fingertip down the length of his favourite black riding crop. He gives Merlin a crinkled-eyes little smile as though he knows exactly where his thoughts have been wandering, then it blooms on his mouth, wide and lovely and showing off his ridiculous dimples, when Eggsy grabs it at once and swishes it through the air a few times to get used to how it feels."Gently," Merlin tells him, taking the thing off him then grasping Eggsy's wrist, opening his hand, and tapping the flat scrap of leather at the end against his palm. "Like this."He looks confused. Merlin's almost cross with himself for how endearing he finds that expression on him. "But that don't even hurt.""After an hour doing that it'll hurt like hell."





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [concernedlily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/concernedlily/gifts).



> [Tumblr kiss meme](http://deepdarkwaters.tumblr.com/post/150702058341/another-kiss-meme)! #20: "Kisses because everything hurts right now including being loved by you but you’re also the only thing that makes it feel better." My brain decided to take this one literally...

Of course Eggsy, being Eggsy, snoops everywhere in the bedroom when he's bored one time and finds a whole stash of things he doesn't know the names and uses of. Merlin sits him down on the bed when he catches him – on Harry's side, of course – and for almost an hour he lets the lad open boxes and press buttons and investigate, quietly explaining everything to him while Eggsy, silent for once, nods his head and blushes like a beautiful boy in a pre-Raphaelite painting. He keeps staring, shocked, at Merlin's hands, the way his fingers move with such certainty over the electrodes and blade handles and the perfectly rendered veins in the marble carving of Harry's cock made during some fling he'd had with an artist in the summer of 1994.

Harry gets home and finds them there: Eggsy flushed and damp with sweat at the temples, unabashedly hard in his trackies, surrounded by paraphernalia and wearing a metal cock ring over three of his fingertips so the spikes on the inside rest gently against his skin, not tight enough to dig in and prickle him. "You're fucking mental," Eggsy tells Harry as he lounges there against the doorframe taking in the view, but his voice sounds thick and clumsy with need and Harry's never been very good at not indulging his lovers within five seconds of realising they want something, this one least of all. With the touch of a smile lifting the corners of his mouth, he slides his fingers up the silk of his tie and unfastens the knot, leaving the tails hanging loose as he starts on his shirt buttons.

"I admit the spikes are a little intense," he says casually. His eyes slide to Merlin when he comes closer, smile broadening, fond and familiar, before he looks back at Eggsy and reaches to take the ring off his fingers. "Not my favourite, to be quite honest, although there's something rather wonderful about doing a thing one doesn't care for if it pleases someone else."

"Right," Eggsy says, still looking a bit stunned until Harry strokes his sweaty hair back from his forehead and then he grins, teasing and mischievous. "What's your favourite, then? I bet it's"—he holds up a stainless steel butt plug with a huge diamante inset—"the fucking Koh-i-Noor up your arse." He's more right than he knows. Merlin's in no hurry to forget the sight of Harry wearing that thing for the first time on his hotel room cameras, the way it made him stretch like a languid cat and smirk back over his shoulder when Victoria called him her pretty princess. The way she'd raised her eyebrow like a challenge or an invitation, and the way Harry had eventually come just from rubbing himself against the rough silk sheets while Merlin murmured feverishly sweet things in his ear – _I'll cover you in diamonds, I'll make a knife and cut you with diamonds_ – and Victoria watched him from the couch, sipping a martini.

"No." Harry slips his shirt from his shoulders, stuffing it untidily into the laundry basket in the corner, then turns to show off a bit when he starts unfastening his trousers. "Ask Merlin."

"Merlin, what's his favourite?" Eggsy asks immediately, and Merlin has to fight back a smile at how eager he sounds.

"Maybe we should try everything on him and see how he reacts."

"Yeah, I dunno, there's some shit I reckon I'm gonna leave for just you two if that's alright." He taps his finger on the beautiful leather case holding electro sounds and pulls a grimace like the cringe emoji he peppers half of his texts with. "Make sure I'm out of the country before you start shoving spikes up his knob, yeah?"

"Noted," Merlin tells him, and Harry laughs quietly, shimmying his trousers and pants down his narrow hips as one and taking his socks neatly with them so that by the time he stands up straight again, separating his underwear from his trousers so he can get rid of everything where it belongs, he's completely nude, the lamplight turning his scarred skin into a blur of golden highlights and soft shadows. On the bed, Eggsy shifts positions and shuffles back to sit against the headboard, side by side with Merlin, both of them close enough to touch but not touching – both of them staring at Harry, tracking the lines of his imperfect, perfect body with their eyes.

"Show me your favourite," Eggsy says after a moment. He's becoming braver with his requests, finally beginning to understand that he doesn't have to waffle and stutter and tumble over himself with all the _if you don't mind_ and _if you want_ and _would that be okay?_ Harry obeys at once, standing at the foot of the bed to survey the hoard of toys and tools, and Merlin wonders what he'll go for. He knows Harry doesn't have a favourite, because he knows Harry. Knows his moods and the fleeting nature of his whims. When he's had a slow mission, no chance to tire himself out in a decent fight, he likes to be challenged: a fist, the knives, a strap that leaves streaks of bruises or a fine tailed whip that cuts into his flesh as cleanly as a razorblade. When he's tired he'll lie quietly for hours on end watching Merlin's fingers work elaborate knots into the coils of rope binding his body and limbs, and then hours more in front of the mirror admiring the reddened lines imprinted in his skin until they start to fade. Or he'll feel like being indulged and adored, and Merlin will dress him up in the silk lace underwear Harry bought as a joke that took on a life of its own, sit Harry on his lap even though he's far too big and feed him little chocolates and pieces of fruit and tell him what a perfect pretty little doll he is.

"This is nice," Harry says softly, sliding a single fingertip down the length of his favourite black riding crop. He gives Merlin a crinkled-eyes little smile as though he knows exactly where his thoughts have been wandering, then it blooms on his mouth, wide and lovely and showing off his ridiculous dimples, when Eggsy grabs it at once and swishes it through the air a few times to get used to how it feels.

"Gently," Merlin tells him, taking the thing off him then grasping Eggsy's wrist, opening his hand, and tapping the flat scrap of leather at the end against his palm. "Like this."

He looks confused. Merlin's almost cross with himself for how endearing he finds that expression on him. "But that don't even hurt."

"After an hour doing that it'll hurt like hell."

"Nice." Eggsy grins, toothy and giddy. He never used to smile like that; Merlin suspects he picked it up from Harry the same way Harry's started folding his toast in half to eat it in the mornings after fifty years of feeding himself like a normal adult. "You got a spare hour, Harry?"

"I've got all the time in the world for you, my darling," Harry tells him, all blinking innocent Disney princess romance, and beside Merlin Eggsy snorts a little laugh and scrambles to his feet.

"Your lines are fucking rubbish. Good thing you're fit, hey." He points with the crop to the pull-up bar screwed into the bathroom doorway. "How's about you hold onto that for me?" And in silent sign language when Harry grins and turns to do as he's told, Eggsy adds _is this ok_ with an agitated, anxious sort of look on his face. Merlin nods and he seems to settle a bit, breathing out slowly and adjusting the heavy hardness of his cock in his jersey trackies.

Ready to get up and step in any time the lad looks like he might be floundering, Merlin rearranges the pillows and settles back to watch: Harry's bright eyes and the blotchy flush beginning to creep down his neck and chest, and the curious sort of unfurling effect of Eggsy's back when he amends his posture. By the time he's made his way to Harry he seems somehow taller than he really is, confident and poised like a snake ready to strike.

"Where's your favourite place?" Eggsy asks softly, then before Harry even starts to reply adds, "No, don't tell me. I'll find it." He touches the tip of the crop to the quivering muscles in Harry's stomach and slowly starts to draw a line upwards as though his abs are still as trained and clear as they were before his injury and he's following the valley in between. "Tell me if there's somewhere you don't want."

"Face," Harry says after a moment. His eyes are closed, as though he's trying to really feel the barely-there tickle of the leather stroking up and down those few inches of his flushing skin. "Hands. Too many nosy questions if there are any marks. My"—his voice cracks and fades out for a moment when the downward stroke of the crop reaches its lowest point touching the neatly trimmed hair at his crotch, then he clears his throat and tries again. "My suit will cover any others."

"Does this thing leave marks?" Eggsy asks curiously, dragging it sideways and over Harry's hip to circle the livid purple bruise knocked there a few nights ago when Eggsy fucked him bent over the dining table.

"It can. They'll fade fairly quickly. But you're a beginner, so who knows what kind of mishaps—"

"Beginner," Eggsy repeats scornfully and taps him on the lower curve of his arse, swift and sharp. Harry's breath and a laughing apology tumble out of him as one sound, then Eggsy goes back to teasing him with soft little strokes.

Merlin times it, and it takes twenty-three minutes for Harry to start begging.

"Please," he whispers, breathy and desperate, and the smile that blooms on Eggsy's face is something glorious: proud and delighted and, Merlin thinks, unconscious. In this moment he's completely unaware of what his face is doing in a way he never, ever is out on a mission. The intimacy of it – _he feels at home here, he feels safe here_ – seems to send hot little fingers sliding down Merlin's spine, tickling his skin with goosebumps that grow fiercer still at the ragged noise Harry makes in his throat when Eggsy starts tapping at his nipple with the crop.

"Please what, babe?"

Harry swallows hard, opens his eyes to look beseechingly at Eggsy before he glances down at the crop being flickered against his sensitive skin. "Harder."

And Eggsy laughs at that, drags the crop to Harry's other nipple and starts patting him there as well. "I don't do what you tell me, I do what Merlin tells me. You're getting this til he says different." He drops a sly little grin back over his shoulder at Merlin, cheeky little sod. "This alright, yeah?"

Merlin makes a 'go ahead' sort of gesture with his hand, silent. Harry's watching him intently, flushed and breathing hard already. He smiles when their eyes catch, looks away almost as if he's shy when of course he's not: he's lots of things, but shy has never been one of them, although he can play it so beautifully when the mood takes him. "You can go a bit harder," Merlin tells Eggsy, then for a while just silently traces his eyes over the pinkened tracks the lad is leaving in Harry's skin. They're darker here and there where he lingers at random, tapping over and over at the same spot before moving on as soon as Harry makes the right kind of strangled noise.

"Try this," Merlin says after another half an hour. When he gets up from the bed to move closer he can see sweat gleaming on Harry's bare skin in the lamplight, and he touches a fingertip to Harry's nape to feel the damp curling hair cling to his fingers. For a moment Harry leans slightly into his touch before he stands straight again, gripping more tightly to the bar above his head and waiting, barely breathing just as Eggsy is, for more. "Hit here."

Eggsy makes an aborted sound like he started to say _what_ and cut himself short. The crop, tapping a red patch into the side of Harry's thigh, stills in his grip and he looks uncertainly at Merlin: his face, and then his fingers where they've come to rest under Harry's half-hard cock, cradling the warmth of him gently in his hand. "Seriously?"

Merlin nods his head and waits while Eggsy licks his lips nervously and returns the tip of the crop to the first place he'd put it, the soft trail of hair low on Harry's belly, tracing the line gently down and up and down until Merlin sees a shiver of goosebumps spread out across Harry's forearms.

"Won't that hurt?"

"Isn't that the point?"

"Well, yeah. But"—he drags the crop lower still, letting the leather at the tip lie flat just at the angle where Harry's cock meets his body—"won't it _hurt_ -hurt?"

"Yes," Merlin tells him simply. He dips his fingers into the indentation of Harry's spine, sliding down his slick sweating skin and resting his hand there on Harry's backside. "Start gently, like before."

But Eggsy's still hesitant, searching Harry's face as if he still thinks there might be things Merlin wants and Harry doesn't. "Harry?" he says softly, curiously.

"It's not as bad as those spikes," Harry tells him, voice trembling just the tiniest bit. He frowns even as he's smiling, his eyes already a little bit wet and glazed, trying to focus on both of the faces before him, and Merlin starts to stroke him again, fingers drawing slow, soothing little patterns into the skin of his backside and hip and waist.

"Your arms must be sore."

"Yes," Harry admits, though he doesn't let go of the bar until Merlin tells him he can. He brings his arms down slowly, stretching and rotating his shoulders and smiling suddenly, giddy and overwhelmed, when Eggsy grabs his hand and starts kissing his fingers as though he just can't resist.

"Will you?" Eggsy asks. He turns the crop in his grip, offering Merlin the handle end. "You hurt him and I'll look after him." Harry makes an injured, glorious little sound in his throat at that and Eggsy's on him at once, shushing him, curling fingers around the back of his neck and tilting him down to kiss his forehead and cheek. "I got you," he's murmuring, sounding feverishly excited despite his sudden attack of nerves, "me and Merlin's gonna both look after you, yeah?"

It's all very sweet – and Merlin is fascinated by the ease of their romance and the unabashed fervour of it to the point that his occasional dreams of them are less about them fucking and more about them as they are now, wrapped around each other, breathing in syncopation so the air Eggsy breathes in is air that's just been inside Harry's lungs – but he can sense Harry needs more tonight. He often does when he's been teased so slowly like this. There's something glittering dark and hungry in his eyes when they meet Merlin's again, even as his liberated fingers occupy themselves instead in Eggsy's messy hair to hold him close and beg for more neck kisses.

"Hold the arms," Merlin instructs in the teacher-voice he used during training. "Take them back behind the body and hold them there. There's a tendency for reflexive movements, I don't want them in my way." Harry's lower lip is caught between his teeth now, eyes almost closed, chest heaving hard with his breaths. As much as he loves being adored and spoiled, there's a mood he slips into sometimes, often triggered by this kind of slow build-up of sensation, where no amount of pampering will work for him as well as being treated like he's not even there, like he's a piece of furniture. The first time Merlin noticed it – a million years ago; he was still Gawain then, like Eggsy is now – was in a club they used to go to sometimes, the sudden hitch in Harry's breathing watching a dominatrix asking someone to _tie the specimen's hands_ to a cross. _I should get you a plinth_ , Merlin whispered in Harry's ear in bed later, fucking him with a fake cock almost as thick as his wrist, _stand you in the corner so everyone who visits asks who the sculptor was. They'll say my god, you finally got some art in this place that doesn't look like it belongs in the back room of a junk shop_ , and Harry, on his hands and knees on the bed, came hard enough to streak his chest and splash his chin, laughing and dazzled.

He wonders for a moment whether Eggsy's going to object, but then the lad swears faintly under his breath and scrambles to obey, nudging past Harry to stand just behind him and hold his wrists steady in both hands. When Merlin looks at him to nod his approval he sees Eggsy's cheeks are flushed, as though he's the one being slapped. "Good boy," Merlin says – on purpose, although he makes sure it sounds casual – and Eggsy stares at him for a moment the way he does every time, hearts in his eyes, almost the same way he always stares at Harry. It shouldn't be as gratifying as it is.

It's not something they do frequently, but it's happened often enough that the crop almost feels like an extension of his arm now. He controls it smoothly, instinctively, smacking the leather tip down onto Harry's cock with barely any force at all. Harry still reacts, huffing out a sharp breath and sucking air back in through his nose before he controls himself, breathing slow and steady as Merlin flicks his wrist again and again and taps a line of careful little blows right up and down the length of his shaft. "Like this," he says, as mild as a maths teacher explaining a formula. "The skin isn't as delicate as you imagine. This skin on this object in particular is fairly used to rough treatment, it can take a lot before there's any risk of damage."

"Right," Eggsy says, staring transfixed at Merlin's hand cradling the underside of Harry's cock and the leather tip of the crop flickering up and down. "But you gotta get, um, the object ready for it slowly."

"Precisely, well done." He glances at Harry's face and finds, as he expected, the loveliest little smile on his mouth in response to Eggsy's playing along. "We work on the shaft here, above and below." He switches to flicking upwards against the underside for several minutes, no sound in the silence except the quiet smack of leather on flesh and Harry's gasping breaths. "Would you like to take over?"

Eggsy looks almost as far gone as Harry is, flushed and sweating with his pretty pink mouth hanging open and his eyes gone hooded and bright the way they get when he's pretending he's not tired. "Can I just watch?"

They're more alike than people think, the two of them, in so many different ways. "Of course."

"He's shaking. Feel like I gotta hold him up." He pauses, swipes the gleam of sweat off his upper lip with a quick pass of his tongue, then amends, "It, not him," in a vaguely nervous sort of voice, self-conscious as though he's not quite comfortable with all of this yet. He looks happier when Harry makes a needy sort of noise and leans against him, tipping his head back to lie on Eggsy's shoulder and opening his eyes to gaze at him, unfocused and besotted. "What next?" Eggsy asks Merlin. He looks as though the effort he's putting into not looking at Harry's face is devastating, clenching his jaw the way he does when he's about to launch into some difficult bomb disposal or fight while out on a mission, and Merlin feels a sudden hot rush of pride for him – for how hard he always tries, how willing he is to give strange new things a shot simply because he thinks it'll make Harry happy.

"Same again, but harder." He's been carefully stroking for a few minutes, but now raises the leather tip of the crop and flicks it down smartly near the base of Harry's cock again, building up a rapid rhythm like before that has him shuddering against Eggsy's grip on his wrists.

"It's gorgeous," Eggsy says after a few minutes transfixed. "Prettiest thing I ever seen." He still sounds a bit awkward and self-conscious – not used to describing things as pretty or gorgeous, probably, least of all someone's abused cock – but Merlin sees him glance quickly at Harry's face to see whether he reacts, and appreciates the effort. Appreciates, loves, how quickly the two of them have become close enough to understand one another in a way that even Merlin doesn't, really. It's different. It's, in more than one sense, stunning.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

"Will it bruise?"

"No. It'll turn as red here as you made it up here"—he gestures at the uneven pink patches around Harry's nipple and on his stomach and hip and thigh—"but won't bruise. It'll be pristine again by morning." He can feel damp on his fingertips and slides his thumb over the head of Harry's cock, circling him, coaxing the beading wetness into a long glistening stripe halfway down his shaft while Harry wriggles and whimpers at the touch. It's becoming a challenge for him now, it always is when he's fully hard instead of only halfway there; when Merlin cups the underside of his cock head in his palm and begins to slap it lightly with the crop, Harry makes a choked little noise and jolts back, colliding with Eggsy's body. He settles by the second blow, breathing through it, finding his way into Merlin's brisk, sharp rhythm, and Merlin works him up and up in stages: relentless little slaps until Harry's squirming and making broken begging sounds, slowing to stroke him until he calms, hitting again a bit harder for a bit longer until Harry's cursing and pleading again and Eggsy's saying _noisy little fucker, ain't it_ in a way that somehow makes it obvious what he really means is _you're perfect, I love you, I love you_.

By about the fifth repetition Harry is crying, though Merlin's not sure he even realises it's happening, and Eggsy's staring at him like all the wonders of the world are hidden there in his face. "I can't," Eggsy tries to say to Merlin, "can't not," and falters into silence before Merlin can quite figure out what he's trying to say. He tips his face up to find Harry's cheek with his mouth, kissing clumsily at the tear trail. "You're ok," he murmurs desperately, "I got you, you ain't gonna fall or nothing, I got you safe. Harry." Harry's eyes open then when he hears his name, searching hazily to find Eggsy, giving him a wobbly, beautiful little smile until he says it again. "Harry. Harry, you're alright."

"Make him come," Merlin says, keeping his voice low without really meaning to as though subconsciously he can feel there's a sort of tension that might be shattered by too much sound and smash them all to pieces like a crate of dropped wine glasses. "Kiss him, here."

Eggsy steps around Harry in the doorway and sinks to his knees at once, Merlin moving behind Harry to take Eggsy's place holding him steady. "It hurts," Harry tells him in a throaty, broken whisper when Eggsy starts laying a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses up and down the beautifully flushed, over-sensitive skin of Harry's cock. "It _hurts_."

"I know," Merlin says, soothing and soft, stroking Harry's hair back from his hot forehead and swiping away the remaining tears with his thumb that Eggsy hasn't already kissed away. "You did so well for me."

"I can"—he breaks off, swallows hard around a sob, tries again—"I can do more."

It's true, of course; they've barely scratched the surface of what Harry Hart can take when he's turned on, but it's not just the two of them any more and that changes lots of things in lots of ways. "I know you can," Merlin tells him, "but I'm not sure whether Eggsy can." Down at ground level, Eggsy raises both middle fingers as he's sucking Harry's smacked red cock deep into his mouth, and Harry sort of laughs and moans in pleasure and pain at the same time until Merlin can't resist any longer and finds Harry's chin with his fingertips. He tilts his face up and kisses him the way they used to kiss when they were young, when they were still learning each other, so that when Harry comes in Eggsy's mouth he cries out loud into Merlin's, as though there's a thread or a chain or something much much stronger linking the three of them together there in the open bathroom doorway.


End file.
